


A Light in the Dark

by Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew)



Series: Blind!Harry 'Verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2332970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/pseuds/Chelsea%20Frew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six-year-old Harry has a rough day at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this at some point during the winter, but was suddenly motivated to finish it this week. My BFF beta'd it, then cursed me, saying it was really, really sad. So, she advises having tissues ready.
> 
> This is the first in what I hope is a series of one shots based in the same universe as "All That I Could Never Lose." (Others will likely be longer and not likely this traumatic *g*.)
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Onto the fic....

_**Timestamp: March 2000** _

When she came to pick him up from school, he was sitting in his teacher's lap on the bench under the front awning. Ms. Evers was cuddling him close, and his little face was incredibly sad. Anne met the teacher's gaze, and Ms. Evers just gave her a sympathetic look.

"Harry?" Anne greeted him in as bright a tone as she could muster. "I'm here. Ready to go home?"

He began to cry the instant he heard her voice. He was still little enough that she could pick him up with ease, and when she took him from his teacher, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, soaking her shirt instantly.

Anne mouthed a "Thank you" to Ms. Evers before turning around, Harry firmly in her grasp.

They walked the short distance from school to their house, and as she walked them through the front door, she was very grateful that Gemma was playing at a friend's house that afternoon. She sat down on the couch in the front room, Harry still clinging to her with all his might.

She ran a hand through his fine brown hair and allowed him to cry it out. He was in no state to explain anything to her yet. Instead, she whispered what she hoped were soothing words into his ear and waited for him to calm down.

Finally, his sobs faded into hiccups, and he stilled in her arms.

"Harry, baby, do you want to tell me what's wrong?" she asked softly.

He hauled in a deep breath, pulled away from her just a bit, and said in the saddest voice she'd ever heard, "All the other little boys can see, and I can't."

She was sure she felt her heart break in two.

"When am I going to see like the other little boys, Mummy?"

With that, if her heart hadn't been broken before, it was now.

She hauled in her own deep breath before telling him the truth. "Harry, honey, you won't."

His bottom lip quivered as he asked, "Why not?"

"Because your eyes don't work the way they're supposed to," she explained.

With six-year-old logic, he commanded, "Fix them, Mummy."

"I wish I could, baby," she said sincerely. "But I can't."

He cried a little more, then, and she held him close and rubbed her hand on his back in comforting circles.

"You are my amazing little boy," she told him as his sobs died down. "You can do so many things all on your own. You know your way around the house. You're doing so well at school. Your dad, Gemma, and I love you so much."

"But I want to see, Mummy, just like all the other little boys," Harry protested weakly.

"I know," Anne told him, fighting with every word not to break down and cry with him. "And I would do anything in the world if it meant I could make that happen, but I can't."

Once more, her small son cried into her shoulder, and she had known this day was coming--when he would figure out that all little boys weren't blind like he was--but knowing it didn't make it any easier to handle.

When he was all cried out, she took a tissue from a nearby box and wiped away the leftover tears. "Sweetheart, do you think you can tell me what happened at school that made you so sad about your eyes?"

Harry wiggled in her lap until his back was to her chest--one leg over each side of her lap--and she wrapped her arms around his middle, rubbing her thumb over his tummy absently. "It's Jamie's birthday," he began to explain. Jamie had been one of Harry's best friends ever since Jamie had joined the class in mid-February, just over a month ago. "He got to pick free choice play first after his party."

"Lucky Jamie," Anne remarked. "What did he pick?"

"Blocks and cars. And he picked me to play with him," he reported next, still sniffling the tiniest bit.

"That was very nice of him to invite you."

"He picked Oliver, too." Anne didn't know Oliver, but by the tone Harry used when he said his name, she guessed Oliver wasn't Harry's favourite classmate.

"So, what happened then?" Anne prompted him to continue.

"Jamie and me wanted to build a garage for the cars," Harry told her. "And it was Oliver's job to put the cars in."

"Okay." She was still with him, but it was incredibly tense waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Oliver wanted to put the cars in order by colour, and I told him Jamie and me didn't want to do that because we don't do colours."

Anne sensed she knew what was coming. "What did Oliver say?"

Harry teared up some more as he said, "He said we were babies who didn't know our colours."

She winced. "Then what happened?"

"Jamie said he did," Harry told her. "And he named all the colours of the cars. He got colours for his birthday, and I didn't get any for mine."

When he started to cry yet again after telling his story, she turned him around so she could hug him close, losing her own battle against tears this time.

After a few minutes, they both managed to successfully vanquish their tears, and Anne turned Harry around once more so his legs hung to the side of hers and she could look at his face while she spoke. "Darling, I know you wish you were like all the other little boys at school, but you know, there are things you can do that they can't."

"Like what?" he inquired, his tone clearly sceptical.

"Like you're starting to learn to read with your fingers." She tickled the palms of his hands, making him giggle despite his mood. "None of the other boys and girls in your class can do that."

"I guess." Harry did not sound wholly convinced.

"You can recognise people by their footsteps," Anne pointed out. "Not many people can do that, not even grown-ups."

"Not even grown-ups?"

"Nope."

"What else?" he wanted to know, now a little more interested in the conversation.

"You try everything, even when it's hard," she praised him, smiling warmly. It was absolutely, positively one of her favourite things about her son.

When his face contorted in confusion, she elaborated. "For one thing, you're working on riding a bike like Gemma, and even though it's tricky, you're getting it. You've fallen a few times, right?"

"Lots and lots of times," he corrected her, so beleaguered.

"But you're not going to give up, are you?"

He shook his head. "No. Gemma said that when I've got it, I can ride with her to the park."

"There you go. That's what I mean."

Harry took a moment to think about the message she was trying to get across. Finally, he asked, "Mummy?"

"What is it, baby?" She ran the tip of her index finger gently along his forearm--her way of letting him know he had her attention.

"Do you wish I could see?" he wondered aloud, his voice small and anxious.

Anne was aware that this was a really important question, and that if she didn't answer it correctly, it would be a mistake her little boy would remember for a long, long time. She drew in a deep breath to give herself time to compose just the right response.

"I'm sad that you can't see, just like I know you are. But I love each and every part of you, from your head to your toes." She tapped first his head, then reached down to wiggle the tips of his school shoes. "And it doesn't matter to me one little bit that you can't see because that's part of what makes you you, just like your smile and your heart." She pressed a finger into his right dimple before placing her hand over his heart. "So, even if I could wish you could see, I'm not sure I would, because then you might not be my same lovely, wonderful boy."

Without much warning, Harry threw his thin arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly. "I love you, Mummy," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too, baby." More than he would ever know.

End (18 September 2014)


End file.
